


Tuesday

by moroder



Category: Martin Beck Stories - Maj Sjöwall & Per Wahlöö
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Out of Character, also Bodil who is Kollberg's daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 15:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20084236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroder/pseuds/moroder
Summary: After losing most of his family to an accident, Kollberg finds out an unexpected side of his colleague(s).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Вторник](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20054377) by [moroder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroder/pseuds/moroder). 

> There's a movie adaptation of The Abominable Man, called "Man on the Roof". For some reason I really liked how it pictured most of the characters, so I've kept it in mind while writing the fic. So it can be inaccurate regarding some character descriptions, as I built the images upon Man on the Roof actors. Other book-related stuff is fine.

Lennart Kollberg never liked Tuesdays.

Tuesday was just like Monday, except for the fact that you are not that tired on Monday as you are on the next day. And then you have a whole working week waiting ahead. Kollberg’s family also often suffered from accidents on Tuesday. Milk boils over, keys are stuck in the doors, and children fall over and get a bloody nose as a result. Honestly, sometimes Kollberg was even afraid to take the wheel on days like these, instead sticking with bus or subway.

This Tuesday morning, however, he had to drive. His mother-in-law invited his wife Gun and the kids to visit her for a couple of days, and Lennart found no joy in waiting for taxi or carrying bags and two children over subway trains. Therefore, caring none about the usual Tuesday shenanigans, he brought his family to Stockholm train station just in time. Nothing peculiar happened to them, and he thought the Tuesday curse to lie down a bit. Or, at least, something was going to happen to him as he makes his way to work later.

So far, the worst thing was having Gunvald Larsson as a colleague today. However, it could rather be called unfortunate, not bad. Kollberg put up with him just like the others did, so it was a normal working day.

“Good morning,” he heard, passing by a table at which Martin Beck sat his back to him. Kollberg stopped and waved a hand in a greeting. “Usual subway Tuesday today, huh?”

“Nope, I’m on my own wheels. Brought my family to train station, so subway lost a client this morning,” Lennart smiled, taking off his cap and raincoat.

“Train station? Did they leave without you? Where?”

“Yeah, somewhere I don’t dare to stick my nose.”

Martin Beck nodded with sympathy. His own relationship with his former mother-in-law also was not ideal in the past.

“Anything new over this night?”

“Not really. Here’s Hansson’s report,” Beck pointed at a small folder lying on another table. Kollberg grimaced.

“Could you give it in a nutshell?”

“Well. Lundgren is still on the run; that robbery case was sorted out to economic department. Nothing new yet.” Martin squinted, looking at his colleague. “Are you waiting for something bad to happen?”

“Not really…”

At this moment, a ringing sound pierced the room, and Beck had to stand up from the table. Slowly but steadily, people flooded the office, wandering around with folders, photographs and reports… Just a usual working day.

Lundgren arrived by nine a.m., after four days of discussions in Homicide. Half of people walking through Beck’s office have disappeared, carrying several paper packages; finally, it became nice and quiet. But some open folders on Martin Beck’s table suggested the contrary.

“What about Nordin’s whereabouts?” Einar Rönn asked through his nose. His clothes looked warm enough for local heating, but something still kept his nose unusually red. The weather outside was not that cold – middle of October, the temperature usually dropped even more drastically.

Nordin. Herr Nordin was their prime suspect in the case of kidnapping two four-year old girls that began almost three weeks ago. Yesterday they found out that Nordin was going to leave, but surveillance gave them nothing: he behaved like an ordinary Swedish citizen. It was possible that he kept kidnapped children or met his employers in other part of Sweden, so the surveillance was not turned down even after no obvious results.

“Boys said that he left to Uppsala from Stockholm train station at 8:40. He was neatly dressed and shaved, and carried a briefcase.” Martin Beck looked inside a folder and wrote something down.

“He must’ve made it already.” Larsson glanced at his chronometer: nine hours sixteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Weather in Uppsala must have been colder. The views, however… Vastly more spectacular than grey glass-covered buildings of Stockholm.

“No, this train won’t stop for at least one hour,” Kollberg objected, causing his colleagues to look at him in wonder. “I brought my family there this morning, I know where it goes and how long.”

“Family…” Rönn scratched his nose. “Why didn’t you come with them?”

Lennart brushed him off. Nevertheless, the information about a suspect on the same train with his family was not the best thing to hear this morning, despite the said suspect looking innocent and calm. Kollberg was upset about everything being so still, it was goddamn Tuesday at the end! Someone had to screw up; a storm had to break out above their heads!

And it broke out: the telephone rang in the opposite office.

The calls from that office were rarely on good occasions, so Larsson, being the closest to it, left the room and picked up the phone. The others continued debating.

“It’s maybe even colder in Uppsala,” Rönn sighed, looking outside the window and wrapping himself in his jacket that didn’t help at all. “Why would Nordin leave on weather like this?”

“Who knows. Maybe he came to visit his kin. Maybe the kids he kidnapped. We only know one thing – he’s on a train to Uppsala. Maybe it’s already at it…”

Lennart Kollberg didn’t get to finish the sentence. From the opposite room, Gunvald Larsson walked slowly with a phone receiver, barely reaching Beck’s office, as the receiver wire failed to stretch any further. Stopping there, he looked at his colleagues with indefinite expression on his face, and then turned to Kollberg.

“What happened?” Einar asked.

“It’s at it for sure. Hit another train,” Larsson spoke, slightly confused. “Casualties registered. Kollberg, you said you sent your family on that train?”

He didn’t finish. Lennart darted off, yanked the receiver from his hand and jumped to the phone location.

Oh God, please, he thought, don’t. Don’t turn Tuesday forever into a day of sadness and grief, please don’t. Please let the man on the other end of the line say that Gun and the kids are alright, that they took cover and nothing horrifying happened to them…

The man didn’t say anything useful. The incident took place close to Uppsala, so the rescue teams were already working, but it’s slow and only first bodies have been recovered. Judging by their condition, survivors would be incredibly lucky. During the call, information came about a man that looked like Nordin. He was found dead. His briefcase opened upon impact, and it contained just a set of travelling clothes of a single man. The body and clothes were to be brought to Stockholm as soon as possible.

But Kollberg wasn’t interested in Nordin, he cared nothing about his socks and underwear that were to arrive along with a crippled corpse. He tried asking about other casualties but got no information. Hanging up, he returned to Beck’s office like a dog with a tail between its legs. They looked at him with mutual awareness; to his surprise, Larsson of all people moved closer and patted him on the shoulder.

“Get the hell out of here,” he said with a tone implying “beat it, your family needs you, idiot”. Lennart glanced at him with confusion, and the man nodded at the hanger with his green raincoat. Beck and Rönn exchanged glances.

“Gunvald is right,” Martin finally said, putting his folder aside. “You need to be by their side now.”

Actually, Kollberg would have left the police department even without approval of his old friend and colleagues. But it looked more decent this way. He grabbed the cap and raincoat and fled the office, not hearing “Call back once you find out the details!” said after him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Lennart Kollberg returned to his working place, he had not slept a singe minute.

“You look unwell, what’s wrong?” everyone he greeted felt bound to tell him. Wrong. Everything’s wrong.

They didn’t let Kollberg to visit the scene. Don’t bother the rescues, they said. By the time local police began listing casualties along with found bodies, fifty people were extracted from under metal piles. Forty-seven of them were dead.

Including Gun and Joshua Kollberg.

Bodil got incredibly lucky: she ran across the carriage and avoided being crushed under its roof. It hit her arm and left deep scratches on her both legs but otherwise did no harm, and the girl was taken to Stockholm hospital. Her father spent the whole remaining day by her side, and as she fell asleep, Kollberg sat in her room until the nurses shooed him at the morning.

They didn’t need him to identify his wife and son’s bodies face to face yet, as the documents were enough so far. He could stay with his last living family member for the time being.

Watching Bodil all bandaged and sleeping peacefully, Lennart contemplated whether he deserved all this. It couldn’t just be bad luck Tuesday, right? Kollberg was not religious to a point of believing that all troubles were caused by God to teach the man something or to make him suffer for his sins. He would not believe such explanation.

Accidents happen, huh? Happenstance was such a big part of his job. How many times they took chances and it changed everything? So many events with risks of happening simply impossible to calculate because you just can’t include every single element.

If not for Nordin on board of that train, Kollberg would have learned about the incident at the evening probably, in an entirely different environment. Maybe that would have been better. His working day would be over; maybe he’d even take down Nordin in a different time and place. Maybe his colleagues wouldn’t have to see Lennart so discouraged.

Maybe he would have slept a night instead of nodding off by his daughter’s bed and speculating about accidents.

Deep inside, Kollberg was glad that only three of his colleagues knew from the beginning about his own casualties in the train crash. Out of those three, only one could really make a change by his mental support. However, as Kollberg made it to police station, he found out that Martin Beck took a day off yesterday evening. Pinched a nerve on his back or something like that. It was somewhat hard to sympathize him now.

“Lennart? We didn’t think you’d come today.”

Einar Rönn's surprised voice sounded infinitely far, from another world, although he actually stood by the table on the right. He was still dressed in fairly big amount of clothes and it still failed to help his nose dim its reddish color. Across the room, Gunvald Larsson sat another table and was dressed in his usual fashion, but in contrast to Rönn he looked like he was wearing flip-flops in +15°C with others still utilizing coats and scarves. Hearing someone enter, Larsson looked up at the person and frowned.

“Did you even sleep?”

“Forget it. Let’s get down to work.”

Lennart tried to sound confident and convincing, as if nothing had happened and it was still Tuesday. He could at least convince himself. But every time he remembered Bodil sleeping in her hospital room, the apparition was falling apart. He saw the train going off rail, the first carriages crumpled up like paper, and when his sore mind tried its worst to imagine the passengers under these carriages, Lennart stopped it immediately. The best he could.

“…nothing out of usual. Kollberg, are you with us?”

“Huh?.. Yes, go on.”

“There were some encrypted notes in his notebook; guys in deciphering are on it now. Could be names or addresses of someone important to Nordin.” Larsson turned a page of the report, looked through it, closed the folder and threw it on the table in front of Kollberg. “Doesn’t make sense, honestly.”

“Why?” Rönn resented. He picked up the folder and found the page his friend disliked.

“It’s all cloudy. I don’t think Nordin would give out all his secrets to the first finder. Even if they’re encrypted like hell. We’ve been on his tail for so long, and he gave out nothing. You think he’ll have his coordinates this easily?”

Einar shrugged. The report was nice and clear; it was made by Melander who added his own brilliant memory to the material they had. Thanks Heavens, he didn’t write it with a pen and used a typewriter.

“What do you think, Kollberg?” Larsson glanced at his colleague but received no response. Then he shook his shoulder, making him flinch out of stupor. “Kollberg, wake up.”

“I, uh… I think that…” Lennart wiped his eyes, red from sleepless night. Frankly, he didn’t think anything, it was just his mind throwing the same pictures at him. Depressing shit. “Could it be somehow connected to a motive, a targeted killing disguised as an accident?”

“If so, the murderer has got godawful moral code,” Gunvald Larsson muttered, crossing his hands. “Sacrificing an entire train full of people when you need to kill off just one. You can fake an accident in a thousand ways. Push the man under the same train, for example.”

“Maybe something went wrong in the plan,” Rönn wondered. “Was Nordin even aware of being a target?”

“Maybe it was indeed an accident,” Lennart mumbled, staring at the same point somewhere past his colleagues. At the calendar that was stuck at yesterday. Tuesday. Fucked up day.

Kollberg rose from Martin Beck’s table, slowly walked towards the calendar, as if making himself, and tore off a page. He eyed the despicable paper sheet for a couple of seconds and then crumpled it up in his hand, clenching it until his knuckles hurt. Colleagues watched him in different states: Rönn was confused, and Larsson was displeased.

“Guys, have you ever… thought why you became policemen?” Lennart slowly uttered, turning around and still clenching the calendar page. They exchanged glances.

“Is it relevant?” Larsson asked.

“I… I don’t remember, I thought it was a good profession,” Rönn said, scratching his chin. He didn’t seem to give it a lot of thought before. “Mother was okay with my choice… Why do you ask?”

Kollberg looked over both of them, walked back to the table and leaned onto it.

“I had a childhood friend who once had his family held hostage. They were rescued, of course. By police. So he told me about it in such an excited manner, that he wants to become a policeman to protect his family on his own. I heard a great deal of this from him and decided that it was a good reason too.”

He fell silent for a while, eyeing the crumpled paper in his hand. Then he tossed it somewhere in direction of the trashcan; he missed, but Larsson stuck out his arm and caught the paper anyway.

“For my whole life I’ve been preparing myself for protecting my family. Even if I don’t use a gun, use my own body as means of protecting. Every Tuesday was a mess. I prayed for shit to happen to me, not them.”

“Why Tuesdays?” Rönn wondered, but Larsson gestured with a “not now” at him.

“And now I… I see that it was all in vain. You can’t shield your people from all dangers even if you’re a policeman. Such a position in our society, but what for.” He glanced at the folder signed with Nordin’s name and sighed. “You can’t do shit about it.”

Kollberg sat at the edge of Beck’s table, staring at nothing, eyes half-closed. He spoke up about his feelings now, and he’ll regret it five minutes later because he’d most certainly given Larsson a couple of reasons to mock him for.

“Did anyone survive?” Rönn asked after a while. “From your family, on the train, I mean.”

“Daughter’s in the hospital.”

“How is she?”

“Out of threat.”

“Which hospital?”

Kollberg looked up and looked at the man who asked the last question with slight anger.

“Why’d you need that, Larsson?”

“Don’t want, don’t answer,” he shrugged. “We could help you in a way, you know.”

“I don’t need help,” Lennart muttered, wrapping in his jacket and crossing arms – hiding from the whole world, in other words. “I’ll handle it myself.”

He turned away. Larsson and Rönn exchanged glances without a sound; Einar threw his hands up and Gunvald shook his head in disapproval.

“Fine, but are you ready to work?” he finally asked. “Nordin and his case didn’t go anywhere. His body also looks pretty well, according to reports.”

He went on talking about autopsy and stomach contents, but Kollberg decided to read the report instead. Maybe he’d even take a walk to the forensics and ask Hjelm himself. He’ll hear the same things but he’ll at least get a chance to clear his head. If it was possible.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite his furious wish to bail and spend all his time by his daughter’s side, Kollberg stayed highly productive. Perhaps shake-ups from Larsson and Rönn helped that a little bit, as they used any chance to bring him to his senses. Lennart even heard Larsson calling somewhere once, judging by the words he heard – a hospital. But he didn’t get to hear the rest.

Nordin’s notes were decrypted, and they contained nothing suspicious. The addresses inside were simply pharmacies around Uppsala, and a medication under them suggested its owner having arthritis. Nordin didn’t look that old, but another check confirmed his hands suffering from disease. Turns out, he went to Uppsala merely to buy medicine.

On the other hand, why so much secrecy? Crack a joke on the police tailing him in vain for several weeks?

Or maybe he was actually afraid of someone else?

Maybe he was paranoid altogether but didn't show that to surroundings. To surveillance as well.

Lennart Kollberg took a deep breath and covered his face with both hands. It was already eight, and the streets looked like it was a lot past ten. There were only him and Rönn in the office now, save for three police officers he didn’t remember seeing before; they came for materials on another case and Rönn was looking for them around the room. Kollberg still sat at Martin Beck’s table and eyed the folder in front of him. Larsson left at seven, as his working day ended, so the atmosphere around became a little less nervous. Kollberg looked at his colleagues, and his train of thought slowly went away from Nordin.

Why were they so eager to help him at the morning? Policemen endured a shitload of family incidents, and this was the first time he saw someone react like this. Although none of them have had their almost whole family die like this. Lennart was even more surprised by Gunvald Larsson’s reaction; usually nothing made him offer his assistance in times like this, particularly directed to Kollberg. What’s on his mind?..

“Lennart, what are you writing?”

Einar Rönn's voice yanked him out of thought; Kollberg flinched and looked down at the paper sheet. It was his full name and its versions put through Caesar shift.

“Eh, it’s nonsense… By the way, did they find anything else in the notebook?”

“It’s on Gunvald’s table,” he waved at it.

“Give it to me.”

The notebook looked the usual. A stack of paper sheets, pierced through with a thin wire. Kollberg flipped through the notebook with a thumb and then looked at every single page with more accuracy. Here are the noted, successfully decrypted today. Nothing else, one could say; but Kollberg paid attention that on the next page there were some other traces of notes, obviously not from previous page.

“There’s something else,” he mumbled, showing the page to Rönn. “Look, it’s like there was another page after notes, and then he tore it out.”

“Indeed…” He took the notepad and messed around with it for a bit. Then he glanced at the clock. “It’s probably too late to bring it back to find out what was written there.”

Lennart looked at the wall. The round-shaped standard clock showed precisely eight and half.

“It’s not too late, but they won’t start working on it right now anyway,” he sighed, staring at the window. Light rain started to sprinkle, and it likely became cold. “Einar, let’s go home already…”

“I’m on night duty,” the man grunted. Kollberg stretched out his arms, glanced at his Caesar shift paper one last time, got up and came to hanger.

“I’m out then.”

“To hospital?”

Already wearing a raincoat, Kollberg turned around, perplexed.

“Huh? What?”

“Nothing. Just hoping you’d get home and go to sleep. It’s bad for police to be sleep-deprived,” Rönn shrugged. He said nothing else, but his gaze spoke “go, don’t wait, it may be already late for hospital visits, and you just stand there and stare at me”.

“What the hell’s got in them,” Lennart thought, pacing towards the subway station; he knew too well that driving would be suicide in his condition.

The hospital personnel greeted him in confusion: not only because it was almost nine o’clock, but also because he wasn’t the first visitor for Bodil Kollberg, and the previous one hasn’t left yet. It surprised him too, and he almost ran ahead of the child’s doctor as they went to her room.

“…for a piece of hazelnut cake. It occurred to Timm that… huh, is that the doctor?”

Lennart didn’t know what to do – stand at the doorstep in astonishment or run inside and drag the visitor away from his daughter. But everything looked peaceful; seeing her father, Bodil exclaimed with delight:

“Papa came, yay!”

“Well, don’t just stand there, father figure. Come in.”

Larsson’s voice seemed weirdly homelike, completely unlike the one he used to yell around or to annoy Kollberg about something. He looked the same way he did upon leaving the police department two hours ago; his jacket was hanging on the chair he sat at, his maroon tie was thrown over the shoulder, and he held a half-closed book in his hands. Its cover read “Timm Thaler, or the Traded Laughter”, and he put his finger in as a bookmark. Lennart looked around the room; on the table, under a turned off desk lamp, a sketchpad and some crayons lay, and it was sadly hard to see the drawings in half-dark. Meanwhile, three people – Bodil, her doctor and Gunvald Larsson were eyeing him until the doctor lost her patience:

“Will you enter?”

“I… Yes, of course,” he made a step forward and staggered, holding onto the doorjamb.

“Papa, are you okay?” the girl worried. Larsson turned to her and chuckled.

“He needs a rest. You too, by the way.” He put some paper stripe inside the book, closed it and put it on the table next to sketchpad. Bodil didn’t like that: they must’ve stopped on an exciting moment of story.

“But you’ll come tomorrow, right? I wanna know what happens to Timm,” she whined.

“If the doctor lets me.”

“No, no visits anymore,” Kollberg hissed, wagging a finger at his colleague. He wanted to pour out exactly what he thought about his initiatives, but his daughter’s piercing gaze stopped him from doing so.

“Papa, pretty please! Uncle Gunvald is great at reading stories,” Bodil begged, almost crying.

The doctor glared at both men with reproach.

“Put your problems outside of this room, gentlemen.” Saying this, she escorted them both out; Larsson barely got to grab his jacket and coat.

The rain outside had stopped completely. Despite the late hour and overall chill, the air was very warm – exactly for night walks.

Lennart Kollberg was not in the mood for walking or staying at the streets longer than required. He didn’t know where to start though. Standing on the front steps of the hospital, he watched personnel walking in and out from time to time. Even though they got ousted by the doctor, Larsson was still inside the hospital, and Kollberg had to wait. He could have left a long time ago, but confusion ate him away.

As the blond police officer left the building, tightening his coat belt, Kollberg barely held himself from throwing himself at him – cursing or readying fists, no matter.

“Don’t just stand there, go home,” Gunvald snickered, looking over his colleague.

“You… I have so many questions!” he flared up, his hands in a mess. “What the hell were you doing in my daughter’s hospital?! Molesting her behind my back?”

“What? Did you lose your mind along with your family?” Larsson grimaced. “They stop letting visitors in by eight, and you’re head over heels in work. I thought I’d go visit the kid and tell her you’re late.”

“You could leave after you did. How’d they even let you in? You’re not even a relative!”

“Actually, the survivors of train crash that possibly saw Nordin are all in this hospital. Including your child.”

“Oh you son of a-”

“What? Pulling my rank?” Larsson muttered, straightening his coat. “At least it kept the kid occupied for a while. How old is she, five or six?”

“She… why the hell does that interest you…”

Kollberg wiped his eyes, but it didn’t help keep the eyelids open. Seeing his sore gaze and overall fatigue, Larsson sighed and glanced at his watch. Nine-eighteen o’clock.

“You know what? Come, I’ll drive you home.”

“Why… I’m fine with subway.”

“Nope. You’ll fall asleep and reach the terminus. Come on.”

It was a rare thing for Kollberg to agree with Gunvald Larsson on certain conclusion, but this one was correct. He had barely made it to the hospital, almost dozing off; the time he spent sleep-deprived was close to forty hours already. So he followed his colleague, fastened the seatbelt as a matter of habit and didn’t remember how he got home, opened the door of his flat, closed it and fell asleep as soon as he took off the raincoat and dropped down on the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Kollberg didn’t know when exactly he had returned home, but he knew he slept more than ten hours straight. As he opened his eyes, the clock on a bookshelf was at 09:16. The time they found out about the train crash in Uppsala two days ago.

He covered his face. It’s already been two days…

He couldn’t remember his thoughts throughout the time period. But one thing he knew for sure: it was good that he stayed out of his home. There were too many things reminding of the happy family past. So many photos and albums… so many things scattered around: they were looking for something that morning and rummaged through closets, and no one was there later to clean up. Next to Kollberg, Gun’s nightgown lay – where it always lay if she didn’t have time to make the bed at morning. He turned over and hugged the blanket with the nightgown. The feeling of coming tears burned his sore eyes, but he couldn’t let himself, no. Even when no one saw him. You start crying once, you will remember it later and it will start anew. He didn’t need that.

By half past nine, a phone ringed in his flat. He was still lying motionless on the bed, and the call became a trigger to actually move on. Martin Beck phoned him from police department, asking how he was feeling at the moment. Kollberg didn’t really realize at first that it was a working day, but for someone else, not him. Beck’s voice came a little muffled, and when Kollberg asked why, he said he didn’t want his other colleagues hear him making the call. Kollberg wanted to say something, but changed his mind.

After a poorly managed breakfast, Lennart finally made himself at least change the shirt and went to the hospital again. Of course, Bodil was always happy to see him, but today she kept asking about “uncle Gunvald” and when he’s going to come back. Kollberg felt a surge of jealousy, as his own daughter was more interested in a stranger rather than her dad. At the same time, he sort of respected the man’s skill of working with kids, if one could make friends with Bodil after only two hours. They’ve probably got along a lot sooner though and spent the rest having a good time. Until Kollberg came in and ruined everything, that’s the thing.

Sitting by your child’s side, - the last living creature to hold him in this world - was an endlessly decent thing to do. But outside of her room with crude colorful drawings there was other business. A lot more adult and atrocious. He said goodbye to Bodil, promising to return by evening.

All people killed in the train incident were in Uppsala. Sitting in the train on the way there, Lennart Kollberg contemplated lazily what would happen if this train also were to crash. Casualties again. Maybe his colleagues would become the ones to feel sorry for. He wondered who would go and tell Bodil about the death of her father following her bother and younger brother. He still hasn’t told her about Gun and Joshua, saying that they’re in a hospital in another place, and they’ll visit them in Uppsala as Bodil gets better.

Kollberg headed there for exactly the same reason, although it was rather grave in reality.

He was preparing himself to see lifeless mutilated faces of his wife and son for a long time; but it went very smooth to his surprise. Their faces were not traumatized, and it only required a look on the face to identify. No other matters arose. Lennart knew his mother-in-law had a heart attack when she heard the news, so currently he was the only one to care about the grave matters.

Make it Friday or Sunday, they said. On his way home, Lennart wondered whether their savings would be enough to put a good marble plate or something like that. He thought how he was supposed to tell Bodil about that. She was very mature despite her age and she would probably understand everything… but he was still afraid to hurt her like this, like any parent shields their child from the horrors of outer world.

It was raining on Friday. Kollberg only invited the closest people to the funeral: Gun’s childhood best friend and her mother. They cared none about the rain, and everything went as planned – calm and quiet. Bodil was still in the hospital, as they decided to leave her out of it and let her rest. It was the right decision in the end.

On working days, Kollberg turned into a shadow. He usually carried out assignments but made no suggestions; luckily, he didn’t become absentminded and was still efficient. His colleagues, however, felt if not awkward, but not used to this sort of behavior. Sometimes Rönn talked louder than Kollberg, and it was a thing impossible to think of before.

Ten days after the crash Bodil was released from the hospital. They gave her an endless list of pills and ointments, explained carefully how to apply and change bandages. Lennart’s mind was still foggy, so the nurse wrote all instructions down, tore out these three pages from her notebook and gave out to him.

He held the papers in his hands and remembered how he examined Nordin’s notepad a week ago. They’ve already found out that Nordin was guilty for maybe only illegal drug selling but not kidnapping children and blackmailing. They had to start from the beginning with a fading hope for success. Kollberg remembered how yesterday the mother of kidnapped children came to their police department, blamed them for everything and fainted in front of Martin Beck. In the hospital, it became clear that she overdosed on pills and came to police to draw attention to her daughters' case. To Kollberg’s amazement, it drew the sharpest response not even from Larsson but from Einar Rönn; he called her actions “highly illogical and defiant”. Larsson, on the contrary, kept complete silence even after these words. He looked especially quiet and brooding for the last few days, making others wonder whether he had an incident as well.

Kollberg didn’t had time to think about that; holding Bodil, he headed to his car. The girl clutched a list of medications and tried to read at least one label.

“Papa, is uncle Gunvald still working with you?”

“Yes, sunshine, he is.”

“Why didn’t he visit me again?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“I wanna play with him again. Can I?”

Lennart groaned, letting the girl down on the ground and fishing out his car keys.

“We’ll see.”


	5. Chapter 5

The Sunday evening was coming to an end when someone knocked on the door of Lennart Kollberg’s flat. He had good hearing and reacted at once, but wondered why did the late night guest knock instead of using the doorbell.

Looking through the peephole, Kollberg saw a man he would’ve never expected to see there.

“What the hell?!” he hissed, opening the door. “What are you doing here? At this time?”

“I know the time, and that’s why I’m knocking,” the guest answered with a straight face and raised a hand with a bottle, showing Kollberg the label. Four-star cognac, he read. “I’ll make noise if you don’t let me in.”

Lennart rolled his eyes and stepped aside, giving way. Crossing Gunvald Larsson’s way was usually somewhere on the list of his usual everyday chores, but he saw no sense in that right now.

“Don’t wake Bodil,” Kollberg muttered, closing the door behind him. The guest turned around and smirked, taking off his coat.

“You think I won’t put her back to sleep? Didn’t you see back there, in the hospital?”

“I want to discuss that as well,” Lennart noted patiently and walked to the kitchen. Retrieving two glasses, he returned to living room and found Larsson staring at framed photos on the wall. He made a silent note about how well the guest’s suit was made this time and that he probably spent a fair amount of money on making one. He coughed, and Larsson turned around.

“Sit down,” Kollberg pointed at an armchair by the coffee table.

“Is that your wife, on the photo?” Larsson nodded towards a frame next to him. Kollberg sighed.

“Yes. Sit down, for heaven’s sake.”

He obeyed. Taking off his jacket and hanging it on the closest chair, Larsson sat in the suggested armchair and put his hands together in a waiting gesture. Kollberg handed him half a glass of cognac.

“Wow. Do I drink that in one go?” Gunvald chuckled. The other man shook his head and sat opposite him.

“I’ve been thinking.” Lennart turned the glass in his hands, watching lazy light glares on alcohol, and took a sip. “Why? I don’t get it from the very beginning. Why is everyone so caring about me since that Tuesday, why’d you want to visit my child in the hospital… Why are you sitting here right now is a nice question too. What the heck, Larsson?”

He looked back with a squint. It usually gave no good news. But this time Kollberg felt no discomfort, save for confusion. Lack of required information always upset him.

“Well, the question of care is out of my league, it’s just because you’re surrounded by people who don’t consider you a waste a space.” He also drank from his glass, made a face and put the glass down on the table with a light ding. “As for the hospital, I already explained that. Maybe I’d add that I was interested. I’ve never seen your family before.”

“Why’d you suddenly become interested,” Kollberg muttered; his companion ignored that.

“The reason I’m here is another question, a more interesting one. Maybe I’m just lonely and sad and I decided to pay a visit to my also lonely colleague after work on a Sunday evening.”

“Oh yeah. Pay a visit. To someone you can’t stand.” Lennart crossed his hands and looked at him with reproach. “Could’ve come up with a better excuse.”

“Well I didn’t have to. I’ve got one.”

The door to kid’s room opened, and Bodil came out, limping; she’d fallen asleep not long before and looked confused.

“Papa, I’m thirsty,” she lamented. Wiping her eyes a little, she stared at the guest, but before she could say anything, he gave her a patronizing smile and reached out for something tucked behind his belt.

Lennart Kollberg remembered next several seconds as if they were filmed – frame by frame. Larsson reaches out for something at his belt. He only carried one thing by his belt. Larsson takes it out; it’s Smith & Wesson 38 Master. Larsson draws the gun forward at Bodil. Kollberg darts off even before he straightens the hand.

With a speed unexpected even for himself, he lunged at his colleague, hit him in the hand, making Larsson drop the pistol, and grabbed it himself, pinning his other hand with a knee. The whole scene took less than five seconds. Kollberg held the gun with both slightly trembling hands, pointing it at Gunvald Larsson who hit his head a little but looked neat overalls, not frightened at all. He never did look frightened before though, even on the edge of death, bleeding at Eastman Institute.

“I,” he uttered hoarsely, his breath out of control, “haven’t even pulled the hammer…”

Right before his eyes, Lennart moved his thumb and pulled the hammer back. However, even this action didn’t startle the assailant, even though a loaded weapon was inches away from his face.

“See?” he said, incredibly calm, smiling and making Kollberg tighten the grip on the gun. “You’re well capable of protecting your family. Even if you don’t carry a gun on everyday basis.”

The meaning of these words was a bit slow to reach the alarmed father who was ready to pull the trigger. Larsson knew that perfectly well, so he made no sudden movements as he released his left hand from under his colleague’s knee and lightly touched his elbow.

“Please put it aside and set me free. She’s looking at us, you know.”

Indeed, Bodil was watching them with an open mouth from behind the armchair her father jumped down from. It seemed that she didn’t quite grasp the situation.

Shortly thereafter, Smith & Wesson returned to Larsson, he read the sleepy girl a couple more chapters of Timm Thaler, and her father gulped his cognac in a single shot and it wasn’t enough. He didn’t interrupt the reading and putting Bodil to sleep, because Gunvald apparently handed that very well on his own. Just like back there, at the hospital.

As Larsson exited the kid’s room and quietly closed the door, it was almost eleven o’clock. Looking like a tired hero, he returned to the battlefield and saw Kollberg sitting with the bottle and studying its label more thoroughly. Seeing Larsson, he put it aside and rose, coming closer.

“Still something in there?” the blond man sneered and glanced at his glass – it was almost empty although he only took a sip.

“Shit, Larsson, you… What’s that demonstration about? Could you tone it down in front of my daughter?” Kollberg whispered angrily, clenching his fists. “You lay a finger on her, I swear to God, I-”

“I felt it, you’d kill me off the very next second with a bullet through my head. I understand it perfectly. Though I didn’t expect you to pull the hammer, honestly.”

He shrugged childishly; Lennart shook his head and stepped aside to refill the glasses. Larsson sat back at his designated place.

“Can you tell me why you’re doing all this, huh?” Kollberg spoke in a calmer tone, sitting down in front of him. “And also where did you learn to get along with kids so well. It’s not on your face, you know.”

“It’s not on your face as well to rip a gun out of someone’s hands in a couple of seconds!”

He laughed, took his glass but changed his mind in the next moment and put his cognac back on the table. Kollberg frowned.

“Fine. Kids… well what can I say, I had some younger relatives to stay with me. Unpleasant experience, but certainly useful. Could come in handy upon working with minors.”

“What about my first question?”

“Yeah… sure.” He fell silent, swinging his hand with a glass lazily and watching alcohol drawing circles inside. “I kind of learned this protective thing from a good person. Shock therapy, you know. Showing someone what you want to prove in the cruelest way possible. Besides that…”

Larsson stopped for a long time. Kollberg thought him to gather correct words or even doubt whether he should say anything at all. Apparently his burden wasn’t any lighter than the flat owner’s.

“I… have no idea if you actually need to know that, but screw it. I had an… affair some time ago. I even wanted to marry her back then.”

“Wow,” Lennart said with meaningfully. If Gunvald Larsson had ever got married, it would’ve really made a headline for their department.

“Yup. I’ve met her whole family. Then… I came to work one morning and they handed me the cards. A robbery homicide, here’s the address. Her address.”

“Oh.”

“It was nasty. All five I’ve met were lying around the flat in different poses and having different wounds. They also cut her face, these jerks. Anyway, after this case, I’ve consulted a therapist and she gave me the idea about shock therapy. She carried it out, to be precise. It was effective.”

“Did she also allow you to put a gun to her face?” Lennart smirked, but it wasn’t to make a joke – rather to express slight fear.

“Not really. It’s not about what she did, it’s about what I’ve learned.” Larsson put the glass aside and moved slightly forward, putting his elbows to knees and putting his hands together. “Even if I’ve happened to be there, what would’ve I done? There were four people, all armed. I’d shoot a couple of them and then they’d shoot me. I wouldn’t have protected those five anyway. You, in your case,” he pointed two fingers, put together, in his direction, “would be lying in a grave next to your dear ones, mutilated. You can’t predict every single thing, you know? Fate treated you nicer than others, you’ve got at least one person alive and almost unscarred. Cherish that.”

Kollberg nodded slowly. He blamed alcohol for that, but Larsson’s voice sounded so… soothing. It was endlessly weird to get to know him from this side, considering how they’ve never discussed anything personal.

“Hey, Larsson… Gunvald. Gun?” he looked up at his companion, but the man raised an eyebrow at the last version. Okay. Shouldn’t call him like that yet. “I… Listen, Bodil was asking about you after she left hospital, like when you’ll come over and play, and so on.”

“Aww,” he muttered with a faint smile, “I appear to have stolen a young lady’s heart.”

“Oh come on, she just likes the way you read about Timm Thaler.”

“I had high hopes.”

“I wanted to say… Could you stay with her from time to time? She likes your company, and I’m feeling awkward when I leave her to my neighbors.”

“Depends on when the ‘time to time’ occurs,” Larsson said. “Usually it’s when our shifts don’t overlap… is that a devious plan to oust me from your life completely?”

He said that with such an offended but ironic voice that Kollberg couldn’t help but laugh. For the first time since his wife and son’s death, the purple fog above his head seemed to have cleared a little. To think who had caused such improvement!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've re-read The Fire Engine That Disappeared today and found out that books state explicitly that Larsson had no experience whatsoever about children (at least less than one year old). But knowing he has a younger sister, he probably did have to be babysitting once in a while, so the fact about getting along with kids is kinda headcanonish.  
Also after finishing The Terrorists I've fixed some certain points about Larsson drinking alcohol, as he appears to be almost completely sober throughout the series.


End file.
